"Nothing Gold Can Stay"
by Stefanie Johnson


Sarah sat on the front porch of their apartment building, slouched over slightly and inhaling deeply on a cigarette she knew she shouldn’t be having. It calmed her nerves, and tonight her nerves were definitely in need of tranquility. If Abby knew she would undoubtedly snatch the cigarette from her, stomp it out and give her a reprimanding look to which she would reply with a shrug and a guilty smirk. But there was no chance of Sarah being found out, and that was in fact what was putting her on edge.

Today had started out surprisingly well. They both woke up next to each other and Sarah could sense Abby’s old energy flowing beneath the surface, ready to take on the world. She kissed her on the forehead and smiled, herself being rejuvenated by Abby’s change of character.

“Let’s go somewhere this afternoon, huh?” She asked brightly, and was pleased when Abby acquiesced by suggesting they go for a stroll in Central Park and stop for lunch at Viva, an obscure, little café that used to be their stomping ground but had turned into a fond memory of the past. The fact that Abby was feeling well enough to do these things was even better than actually doing them.

After their itinerary for the day was agreed upon, they remained in bed for awhile longer. Laughing and talking, with an occasional cuddle or kiss. But no matter how much they may have wanted to stay protected and tangled in the blankets of their bed, they knew a day such as this had to be spent outside. They half grudgingly, half happily dressed and headed out the door towards the park.

Trees were at their peak, a conglomeration of yellows, reds and oranges; and the air was crisp and sweet with the smell of decaying leaves. It was a natural beauty that Sarah knew Abby adored. Abby had once said, “many people see autumn as death and decay, but for me it’s the exact opposite. Everything’s so vibrant and full of life. And while the leaves’ colors may fade and die, nothing truly beautiful can stay in this world, anyway. And that helps me deal with the loss until next autumn.”

Thinking of this now, Sarah dropped her cigarette to the ground and took some steadying breaths. Now was not the time to fall apart, not when Abby needed her to be the strong one for a change. Everything had gone fine until they reached Viva, when Abby embarrassingly confessed that she didn’t think she’d be able to eat anything, that she had began to feel weak half way through their walk but hadn’t wanted to say anything. She started to cry and apologize for her condition, and it took Sarah a solid fifteen minutes to calm her down and reassure her that it was okay, that she shouldn’t hide how she was feeling. Sarah hailed a taxi and consoled Abby all the way back to their home, put her to bed, and came outside to indulge in her nasty habit.

As the sun slipped out of sight and shadows leapt up to take it’s place, she couldn’t help but think how odd it was that Abby was the sick one. By all accounts, it should have been her. She was the one that always needed protecting and caring for; ever since they were little and the boys ganged up on her at recess, held her down on the ground and tried to take turns kissing her. It was Abby who waltzed up to them, yelling a few choice words and threatening them until they finally ceded. She was the shoulder Sarah cried on when her parents died.

“What’s on your mind, kid?” Startled, she looked to the side and saw that their neighbor had joined her on the steps. Mrs. Gwen Dunbar was the 38 year-old widow who lived two doors down from them on the same floor. She was abrasive, assertive, spoke her mind and was quite possibly the only person they really knew, or cared to know, from their building.

“You do realize you’re only ten years older than me.”

“Irrelevant. The fact of the matter is you’re sitting out here alone, skulking and looking like a lost child.” Gwen had a way of making a person acutely aware of how smart or foolish their words and actions were. At this moment, Sarah was starting to feel a little bit on the foolish side, but decided to ignore the feeling.

“So only a child can be lost?” Her eyes, or perhaps her tone must have reflected the pain she was feeling, because her neighbor softened, deciding on a more sympathetic approach as though she had just realized it was Sarah she was talking to, not Abby.

“No dear, anyone can be. But it usually makes them feel as vulnerable as a child.” They looked at one another for a moment, each trying to read the other. “How’s Abby?” The question was a signal to Sarah, letting her know that it was all right to break down in front of her. And it also served to open a floodgate, because once said her emotions came pouring out and she found herself relating the days events and her fears to her friend.

“She’s dying, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how I can help her.” She felt defeated. A moment passed as she debated if she should share her more selfish concern. “There’s something else.” She looked down at the ground, licked her lips nervously and began her confession. “Well, Abby and I have known each other since first grade. She’s the only person I’ve ever really felt any sort of deep connection with; the only one that I’ve really loved, you know?” She glanced up at Gwen, as if trying to will her to understand something.

“God, this is hard. When we were just friends, Abby thought of herself as bisexual. Shortly after we became involved she told me she had been wrong, that she was really a lesbian. Had always been a lesbian. This made me feel a lot better about what I’d done to her, but then I started thinking, what if she only saw herself as a lesbian because she ended up with me? If she had ended up with a man, would she be declaring herself straight?” Sarah looked solemnly at her neighbor, half expecting an honest answer.

“Alright, but hey, she didn’t end up with a guy. She ended up with you, whom she’s crazy about.”

“Abby was engaged.” She noted the shocked look on her neighbors’ face. “To a man.” She took a deep breath and continued on. “We were living together at the time because I had recently been kicked out of my apartment. I came back to her place one night and hit the ‘Play’ button on the answering machine, because I was expecting some calls about apartments I’d been looking into. She was gone so she wasn’t around to hear it, but Roger her fiancé was on there and it sounded like he had been crying. He apologized for something, said how much he loved her and wanted to be with her and needed her. How he would do anything to be her husband. That they could work out whatever they had been fighting about. He said he wouldn’t bother her; that he didn’t want to pressure her and if she didn’t call him or try to see him that would be a sign to him that she thought they were over.

“And after the message ended, and the beep that signals the end sounded, I…” She halted, but went on, whispering the rest. “I hit the delete button.” Sarah hesitantly looked over at Gwen, expecting to be berated but was surprised to find Gwen oddly silent for once. “Well?” She quietly prompted.

For another moment Gwen simply sat there, examining her friend. “Well…I think you should tell her.” Sarah made to protest but was cut off before she could get a word out. “More importantly, I think you think you should tell her. You obviously feel very guilty about this, and not to be harsh Sarah, but you’re right. Abby is dying. Doesn’t she have a right to know before she does? Don’t you have a right to know her response? You should tell her, Sarah. Right now.”

Sarah nodded obediently, knowing she was right. “I will. Tomorrow, when she’s feeling better.” She smiled weakly at Gwen, said goodnight and sighed heavily before standing up and staggering up to their apartment. The days’ happenings and her conversation with Gwen had left her thoroughly exhausted, and as she entered their bedroom she desperately wished to succumb to sleep. Yet, she found it impossible to tear her eyes away from the sleeping form of her partner, and found herself imagining the peaceful expression on Abby’s face being transformed into one of bitterness and resentment upon hearing her confession.

She did not tell Abby her secret the next day or the day after that. Days passed, then weeks, followed by months. Abby’s condition waxed and waned, and by the time autumn came around again, her health had plummeted and no one expected any improvements. Her skin had become lucid and ghastly pale, dark circles had formed around her eyes, which she found hard to keep open. Her hair had become brittle and her weight had significantly decreased. This would be Abby’s last autumn.

The summer had been unusually temperamental, filled with abnormally cold days and only getting relatively warm near the end. And even then the warm weather was inconsistent, being disrupted sporadically and sometimes for long periods by crisp, wintry days.

The weather had been so haphazard of late that it had managed to confuse the trees, making them unsure if it were summer or fall and causing them to throw their green leaves to the ground in frustration. The fall colors would not come this year in New York, or if they did they would never reach their full brilliancy.

Being bed-ridden for the past few months, Abby was unable to see for herself this tragedy, and Sarah couldn’t bring herself to tell her of the weather phenomenon that had snatched away her fall colors. So it nearly brought Sarah to tears one day when Abby insisted that she be let outside to see the transformation of the trees in Central Park. Thinking fast, and knowing full well that she would be unable to keep Abby from seeing the trees, she came up with a possible solution.

“Hon, you know you can’t go outside.” Abby looked destroyed by the statement. “But what if I promise to bring autumn to you?” After much persuasion, Sarah successfully managed to appease Abby with a promise of somehow bringing the outdoors indoor. She rushed out of their apartment, already formulating ideas as to how this task could be accomplished as she pounded on Gwens’ door.

It creaked open and out popped Gwen’s head, with an expression of concern. “What’s the matter, sweetie? Is it Abby?”

“Gwen, I desperately need your help. First, I need you to watch Abby for me while I’m gone, to make sure nothing happens to her. Then, I need to borrow your SUV. And I have no time to explain any of this to you, but you can’t let Abby go outside, alright?”

In response, Gwen simply held out her car keys and told her to go. “I’ll take care of her.” A few hours later, she returned to find Gwen sitting next to their bed, half-slumped over and asleep in a chair. Taking note that Abby was also asleep, she quietly tip-toed over to their neighbor and shook her awake. “Hey, come downstairs and help me.” She whispered. And they set to work on the task at hand.

Now she sat where Gwen had been, excitedly waiting for Abby to open her eyes. When she could wait no longer she knelt down next to the bed and gently roused the sleeping figure. Abby’s eyes slowly opened and at first caused her to question her surroundings. Everywhere she looked, she saw splotches of red and yellow and orange. Strewn across every inch of the floor was a vibrant sea of color, blurred both by it’s intensity and the tears forming in her eyes. She inhaled and was met with the intoxicating smell of sweet, crisp leaves.

“I know it’s not the real thing.” Sarah said after observing her reaction, and kissed her softly on the lips. “But it’s, well, autumn in essence.”

“No, it’s great.” Abby’s voice cracked, full of emotion. “It’s actually the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” She smiled happily up at Sarah. But it wasn’t the smile on her face that made Sarah’s heart leap up, it was the smile behind her eyes that had been absent for so long. “You are so good to me, Sarah. Without you I would be so completely dismantled.” Sarah’s joy at seeing Abby content was suddenly overshadowed by her guilt. Had she been good to her?

“Abby I…I’ve been keeping something from you. I’ve been afraid to tell you but, I need for you to know because I feel like I’ve, well, done wrong by you.” With many tears Sarah remained kneeling next to the bed, clutching Abby’s hands in hers and recounting to her the telephone message, her deleting it and why.

When she was finished she could barely bring herself to look her partner in the eyes. Slowly she managed to do so and found Abby staring at her with an amused smirk covering her face. Sarah’s shock must have been evident, because Abby began to chuckle, which eventually turned into an all out laugh. Abby eventually noticed that Sarah wasn’t getting the choke, and decided to explain it to her.

“Baby, I got the message. I was home before you, and I must have forgotten to delete it. So all this time you thought it was your fault I never got married?” Sarah nodded, unable to speak. “Well, in a way you had it right then.” Sarah’s eyebrows furrowed, and she tilted her head sideways, utterly confused. Abby’s smile broadened as she leaned in and kissed her. “I broke up with Roger because I was in love with you.”